


Just a machine

by bluesaturn



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, M/M, Sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-20
Updated: 2019-08-20
Packaged: 2020-09-19 11:02:22
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 914
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20330062
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluesaturn/pseuds/bluesaturn
Summary: Connor was nothing more than a machine.Hank knew that from the very first moment.





	Just a machine

Connor was nothing more than a machine.  
Hank knew that from the very first moment. 

He had ‘met’ Connor about five days ago and it had been the most confusing five days in Hank’s life. For all the fuss he had made about it, working with the robot wasn't as terrible as he excepted. Connor was annoying and he asked too many questions - if he didn't know any better Hank would think the Android was _nosy_ \- but so far he had only wanted to shoot him once or twice. 

For a moment Hank pondered if shooting something that looked human but wasn't would be more or less fucked up and then decided he wasn't drunk enough for that thought. Hank sat down at his kitchen table and grabbed a bottle of whiskey and a glass he hadn't cleaned in ages. Housework hadn't exactly been on his list of priorities for a long time.

He filled the glass and took a sip of the whiskey that burned his throat.  
Hank hoped it would help to burn the memories as well, but it never did for long, he knew that by now. 

The photograph of his son lying on the tabled was creased, the paper painted with stains of alcohol. Connor had seemed _worried_, except that was an emotion and he wasn't capable of feeling those. Probably had some bullshit routine programmed into him that made him act all caring and worried when a coworker almost killed himself each night. Not that it was any of Cyberlife’s fucking business really. 

Connor was petting Sumo, a soft smile on his face. Hank couldn't think of any good reason Connor was doing so. It couldn't be to get friendly with him, Hank hadn't even been in the room. It certainly wouldn't further his mission. Hank wondered if Androids came installed with quirks. 

The Android kept talking about dogs so much Hank wondered if he wanted one himself. Except he couldn't want but Hank certainly wasn't the one that wanted to talk different breeds for hours. 

Maybe Connor's social programing was just broken. Cyberlife should let him fill out customer feedback forms.  
_My Android Partner is a huge pain in the ass._

Connor kept on letting Deviants go and at this point, combined with all the little smiles and small jokes it felt almost impossible to not consider it. What exactly about not doing his mission could be programming? 

Sometimes it felt like Connor cared more about what Hank thought than what Cyberlife would. That did not make sense to Hank any way he turned it.

It felt weirder and weirder to hope Connor would turn into the thing they were supposed to be catching.  
But the two girls at the club seemed _in love_, not like a bug in some code but _alive_. 

It had been incredibly foolish of Hank to think it wouldn't turn out this way.  
He was standing opposite Connor, freezing as the snow storm around them started building. Hoping he could stop Connor from ruining what he was now sure were actual lives. Hoping he could get Connor to accept that was what he could be too.  
But Hank knew he had lost the war.  
“You're just a machine”, he said and he couldn't understand why that thought hurt so much.

“What did you think I was?”, Connor asked and Hank really didn't know how to answer that one. What was he thinking? That the one thing he'd finally get the chance to hold onto was a fucking robot learning to feel? That somehow if he just kept on pushing Connor, there would suddenly be someone to care about him. Someone to care about. 

“I thought you were …_something._”  
For a moment he saw something flicker in Connor's eyes but it was gone so fast, he couldn't be sure he didn't imagine it.  
“I'm sorry to disappoint you, Lieutenant.”

And it felt really ironic that saying an apology was the most hurtful thing Connor ever did to him. The Android took a last look at him.  
“I'm really am”, he said, before he turned around and walked away. 

Hank kept standing there, staring in Connor's direction, long after he was gone. The snow kept on falling and falling and he felt freezing but Hank couldn't walk away, as if walking away was confirming what he already knew to be true. 

But still, maybe if he stood here for a moment longer, Connor would come back and say Hank had been right all along. But instead he probably was currently shooting hundreds of his own kind without any thought of remorse. 

Hank wondered, if part of him had known. Had just not wanted it to be true.  
He had looked into Connor's eyes, after he didn't shoot that girl and they had looked so deep and brown and human. Connor had seemed _uncertain_ and Hank had wondered if he kept pushing maybe Connor could be who Hank wanted him to be. More than just wires and blue blood. Alive. 

He had seemed more alive than Hank felt some of these days. But nothing, nothing had been real, everything was programming, down to every nice word Connor had ever sayed.  
Hank fell to the ground and the snow kept on falling. It was getting colder by the minute but he couldn't bring himself to care if he'd die today. Everything turned black. His last thought was about the Android.  
Connor was nothing more than a machine.


End file.
